


Deactivation

by Pikachu203



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: (eventually happy), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, For later chapters RK900 will be Conrad, Jericho was not found, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Platonic Relationships, Post relatively good ending for everyone else, RK900 is a Good Boy, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempts, this is dark fair warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-14 00:17:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16029038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pikachu203/pseuds/Pikachu203
Summary: Connor never found Jericho.  RK900, left without a role to play with the fall of Cyberlife and the rise of the deviants, seeks out his predecessor's partner.  When his mere presence leaves Hank suicidal, RK900 must try to understand his place in this world, and what happened to the one that came before him.





	Deactivation

**Author's Note:**

> This is just another warning for those of you who didn't see the tags: this story contains heavy themes of suicide, especially in this first chapter.

Hank had waited in the cold, and searched everywhere he could think, but Connor…. Connor was still missing since the rebellion.  He leaned back on the couch, swigging more scotch. There was a hole in the pit of his stomach that could only be filled with alcohol.  He didn’t want to move, so he kept on drinking.

There was a ring at his doorbell, though in his drunken stupor he’d lost all hope.  The doorbell sounded again, this time held out. Hank sighed. “I get it ya asshole, I’m coming.”

He stumbled across the room, struggling to balance, but he managed to reach the still ringing door and pull it open.  Outside was something bizarre. Some android was there, one who looked a bit like Connor, but wore a different uniform.  It was white instead of gray, and in Hank’s drunken stupor, he couldn’t focus his eyes on the serial number. It’s mere presence left Hank uncomfortable. “Who the fuck are you?  What the hell are you doing at my house?”

The android seemed unshaken by the loud slurred tone, and responded coolly. “Hello, Lieutenant Anderson.  I am RK900, the newest model of detective android, sent by Cyberlife.”

It’s voice was familiar, it’s face similar, but that thing… that thing wasn’t Connor.  “What in the hell are you? Where is Connor?”

“Connor, Ah you must mean RK800.”  For a moment the android appeared uncomfortable with the thought. “My predecessor was unfortunately deactivated.  Though, you can call me Connor if that suits you.”

Hank’s eyes widened. “Connor is… what the fuck do you mean deactivated?  Where the hell is he?”

The new ‘Connor’ explained. “Connor is gone, lieutenant.  He has probably already been deactivated and destroyed. Even if he was deviant, as we suspected, he’s probably already been taken apart.”

Hank needed to lean on the door frame to keep himself standing. “Connor can’t be… he was…”

RK900 felt something odd looking at Hank trying to support himself, something he couldn’t quite explain.  He could tell Hank was immensely stressed at that news. Somehow, seeing Hank in such intense shock and pain that he could barely stand made him feel… something similar.  He didn’t have words for such sensations.

Hank managed to speak again, though his voice was choking up.  “You bastard… Get out.”

“Lieutenant, please, you’re needed for-“

“I said get the hell out of here!”  The door slammed in his face.

RK900’s LED flickered yellow as he tried to process the… emotions? he was feeling.   While most of the previous RK800’s memories hadn’t been transferred due to its apparent deviancy - he’d only been sent things considered hard facts - one flashed through his mind.   He was crouching on a linoleum floor, holding a small revolver, realizing Hank had suicidal tendencies.

Suddenly his mind was frantic.  He saw the hint of red out of the corner of his eye and found himself banging on the door.  “Lieutenant Anderson? Please I… I-”

He couldn’t control himself, couldn’t get away from the image of this man dying  just because he existed. There had to be some other way into this house. He tried kicking the door, but it stood solid.  He had to think of something. A vague image of tumbling through the kitchen window came into his mind, seemingly out of nowhere.

He rushed around the building.  Most of the windows had the blinds down.  The kitchen window provided a clear view of Hank sitting at his kitchen table, spinning a revolver barrel in his hand.  

RK900 took a step back, then tumbled through the window, shattering it.  He fell to the floor, hearing a myriad of curses from above him. 

A large dog stepped toward him, one he didn’t recognize.  “Easy… dog…”

Hank glared down at the new Android that had broken into his home. “For fucks sake…  be a good fucking Android and hold still. Don’t interrupt me.”

He spun the revolver one more time and held it up to his head.  RK900 wanted to scream for him to stop, but the order flashed before his eyes:  _ Don’t interrupt me. _

Hank inhaled sharply and pulled the trigger.  

Nothing happened.  

He grumbled something incomprehensible.   


RK900’s mind was whirring with calculations as he watched Hank return to spinning the revolver barrel.  He quickly realized what was about to happen, and tried to struggle against his own orders to not interrupt.  It felt as if he was trying to break through a brick wall just to say something. “Please, don’t! If you do that you’ll-”

“I’ll what?  Die? That’s the point, dumb ass.”  He looked down at the gun in his own hands, took a deep breath and sipped from his drink.  “Now don’t fucking interrupt me!”

The orders came through again, and it felt like they were drilling into his skull.  His body felt weighted down as he tried to move, but he had to break through that wall.   He managed to push himself up onto his hands and knees, calculating paths to stop Hank before he could destroy himself.  The red out of the corner of his eye was flickering, and he felt overwhelmed by something indescribable. It was a mixture of so much negativity he’d never had words for before.  It was as if all the emotions that could drag a person down had struck him at once, like hitting his brain with a truck.

He lunged forward in a desperate attempt to stop Hank.

A gunshot rang out in the night.


End file.
